Page 50 of Playing Her Game

“I watch hockey.”

“And you have opinions.”

“Strong ones.”

He sets down the grater and comes over to watch the replay. “The commentator's not entirely wrong. But you're right, it's more complicated. The defender commits to covering one lane, so you fake the pass and open the other. It's about reading the reaction, not just spotting empty ice.”

I flip the chicken. “So, it's psychological as much as tactical.”

“Both. You're manipulating their decisions while moving faster than they can adjust.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It is.” He leans against the counter, watching me. “You're good at this.”

“Cooking?”

“Knowing what you're talking about.”

“Is that surprising?”

“No.” His gaze lingers on mine. “But it's attractive as hell.”

I roll my eyes, though I can't stop the warmth spreading through my chest. “Flattery won't get you out of finishing that cheese.”

His lip twists up, “Worth a try.”

We settle into an easy rhythm. I deglaze the pan and build the sauce while he finishes the Parmesan. The garlic and cream fill the kitchen with warmth, and when I add the spinach and lemon, the brightness cuts through the richness. It smells good enough that I'm already looking forward to eating.

Rez steals a taste from the spoon while I'm turned toward the stove. I catch him just as he pulls it away.

“It's not ready yet.”

“Tastes ready to me.”

“Your judgment is compromised.”

He looks me up and down. “By the company or the food?”

“Both, probably.”

He laughs, low and genuine, and the sound does something to my composure that I'd rather not examine.

We plate the pasta and carry it to the island, settling onto the stools with ESPN still playing hockey reels and commentary in the background. My first bite makes me pause. The sauce is creamy without being heavy, the lemon brightens everything, and the chicken is tender. I haven't overcooked it, which is always a bonus.

Rez eats with obvious appreciation, and I find myself watching for his reaction.

“This is really good,” he says.

“You're not just saying that?”

“Would I?”

“Maybe. The circumstances might be influencing your judgment.”

He takes another bite and considers it. “You think the storm and the company are making everything taste better?”

“It's possible.”